The world seemed to fall away as I clutched Matthew, desperately trying to coax him back to reality. The police officers exchanged urgent glances, their radios crackling to life with requests for medical assistance. Their presence felt both necessary and invasive, like a lifeline thrown into a stormy sea.
As the paramedics arrived, they gently lifted Matthew onto a stretcher. His small frame seemed so fragile, like he might dissolve into dust if touched too firmly. I followed them, my heart racing with fear and confusion, feeling as though I were living someone else’s nightmare. The scene around me blurred—flashing lights, voices layering over one another, a cacophony of distress.
We reached the hospital, and the sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air. Doctors and nurses swept in, their expressions a blend of urgency and compassion. I was left in the waiting area, a place of suspended time where every minute felt like an eternity. I clutched my phone, still no word from Daniel, my mind spiraling with possibilities. Where was he? Why hadn’t he answered? Most haunting of all—how had it come to this?
